Roommates || A Harry Potter Fanfiction

Chapter 6

Ginny and Harry made love several more times that night. Hermione watched through slitted eyes, remaining as still as possible. Now that they knew she was present, Ginny and Harry each glanced her way at times. She played dead—or at least deeply unconscious—each time. Much as she wanted to masturbate again, she didn't. She'd never get away with it now that they were conscious of her presence.

And she badly wanted to masturbate. She'd never even seen a porn video before, much less witnessed sex with her own eyes. It was arousing beyond imagining. And there were so many possibilities she'd never even considered. Ginny and Harry's first coupling was in the missionary position. It was the only position Hermione had ever experienced, and at that Ginny had enjoyed it more than she ever had.

But that was only the beginning. She'd watched Ginny use her mouth on Harry's cock. She watched Harry return the favor. She saw Ginny kneel astride Harry while he lay on his back, rocking her hips. She watched Ginny on her hands and knees with Harry kneeling between her spread legs, entering her from behind. They'd even used their mouths on one another at the same time, lying on their sides.

Hearing Ginny's cries of pleasure was educational. She'd never thought a woman could have as much fun as Ginny had, or enjoy so many orgasms. Harry was a very talented young man. Much more talented than Neville had been. Hermione realized at four a.m., when she was briefly awakened by the now-familiar slapping of flesh on flesh, and the incredibly arousing moans and whimpers Ginny made, that she was jealous of her roommate.

Hermione woke again just after dawn. Light filtered around the edges of the curtains. She'd turned over in her sleep, lying sprawled face down, her head turned away from Ginny's side of the room. What had awakened her? She listened, expecting to hear more sex happening. She heard whispered voices—but from the door.

She turned her head. Ginny's bed was empty. More whispering. The door opened and closed. Hermione heard the deadbolt click. She lowered her head and feigned sleep once more. She listened to Ginny climb back into bed and settle the covers. Ginny said, "Good night, Hermione."

Hermione froze. Did she know? Or was she guessing? Safer to assume the latter. Hermione remained silent, pretending once more to sleep. She heard Ginny shift position, fiddle with her pillow, then settle down again with a faint sigh. Very shortly her soft, regular breaths suggested that she was asleep again. All too aware of her own pretenses, Hermione didn't assume that was the case. She continued to lie still, pretending sleep until it became a pretense no longer.

When she woke next, Hermione heard the shower running. A quick look showed Ginny's bed abandoned. Her alarm clock read 10:34 a.m. It was Saturday, a day when Hermione liked to sleep in. But not today. The last thing she wanted to face was discussing what had happened with Ginny.

It would have to happen sometime. But not this morning. She threw off her own bed clothes and rolled to her feet. She dressed as fast as she could manage. She heard the shower shut off as she was jamming textbooks into her backpack. She abandoned the last one, threw the half open backpack over one shoulder and fled the room.

The bathroom door opened as she pulled the hallway door closed. She had the hall to herself. She bolted for the stairwell, heart racing. Ginny called after her—or Hermione thought she did. She ignored the sound and clattered down the echoing stairwell and out into the bright cold morning.